goes wild. My vision turns white as I fight for control. She tastes and feels even better than I remember. Unlike me, she’s not holding back. Her hands are in my hair, nails on my scalp and neck. She’s feeling my shoulders and upper back. She’s trying to pull me closer, but I’ve locked myself in this position and I dare not move. I kiss her deeper, letting my mind be taken to that epic place of beauty. Then I ease up and my lips linger over hers, covering them with small and gentle kisses until I have to go deeper again.
When her pear-filled scent fills my senses, my body urges me again to take her.
Anna grips my forearms and pulls her lips from mine, looking up. “Are you okay?”
She has no clue just how okay I am. I want to show my gratitude in a very big way. I told her tonight wasn’t going to be about that, but apparently my body didn’t get the message.
I push myself away from her and rake my hands through my hair.
“I need another bloody shower.”
I’m proud of myself for the self-control I’ve shown, but the showers are getting old. My body knows when it’s being duped. The daily pain I deal with is so much more defined when Anna is near.
I run the towel over my head one last time and I’m about to drop it on the floor when I remember Anna is here and we’re trying to keep the place clean. So I hold up the towel and awkwardly fold it in half and hang it askew on the rack.
See? I can do this. I’ll even take out the last bag of rubbish without her asking.
I’m feeling good when I run into Anna in the hall at the stacked washer and dryer. That is, I was feeling good. Now I see the look on her face and the paper in her hand.
Shiiiiiiite . . . shite, shite, shite!
It’s the fucking note Anna Malone left me. I only remember one damn line from the whole thing—something about picking up where we left off. This is not good.
“I heard a rumor that you’re not working,” Anna says quietly. “Is that true?”
I wish I could say yes, completely.
“Mostly. I work if whisperers come around or if my father gives me a task, but even with Marissa’s nieces it’s not usually sex.”
She pauses and I want to tell her everything—about how hard I’ve tried and how good I’ve mostly been, but the proof is right there in her hands that I’ve done something, sex or not.
“Were there whisperers here when you had people over?” When she asks this, I know what she’s really asking. Did you hook up with her because you had to or because you wanted to? Emptiness fills me. I won’t lie to her, even though I’d rather gouge my eye out than admit this.
I shake my head. “No.” I wasn’t working.
She crumples the note and turns away from me, back to the washing machine, and I feel as if I’m falling. I know how she’s feeling. I know that sickening sense of betrayal, and now I’m feeling like a hypocritical prat for giving her such a hard time about a kiss with Kope when I’d done even worse. God, if Kopano had done to her what I’d done to the other Anna . . . I clench my jaw, then I get a grip. I have to fix this.
“Anna.” She ignores me and goes about stuffing laundry in. “Ann, please. Listen.”
How can I make this go away? She turns to face me and her eyes are wet. I shove my hands into my hair, wondering how I can salvage this night.
“It was after I’d spoken with Marna,” I try to explain. “I believed you and Kope were together, even though Marna said you weren’t. I was certain you’d fall in love with him.”
I hate admitting that my own insecurities led me to doing bastardly things, but I have to come clean with her. Anna closes her eyes, and her face is pained, as if she’s imagining the worst. I want to take those images from her.
“Did you sleep with her?” she asks.
“No.” Though I don’t expect her to be impressed, I need her to know. “It wasn’t nearly as hard to stop as it had been with you.”
She still doesn’t open her eyes.
“I’ve mucked it right up, haven’t I?” She looks at me now with sad eyes. “I’d been good